


Worthless

by DavidtheWriter (DavidtheTraveler)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 08:26:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18362294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DavidtheTraveler/pseuds/DavidtheWriter
Summary: That's all they were.  That's all they ever were.





	Worthless

Roman sat, dejected, at his desk, staring down at the blank paper in front of him.

Its blankness seemed to mock him, constantly laughing at his expense.

_Worthless_

That’s what it kept saying to him.  And it was right. What worth could he have if he couldn’t even get an idea right?

He was the creative one, the ideas guy.  It was his job to create, to conjure, to bring to life.  But he couldn’t. Try as he might, he couldn’t. There was no spark, no inspiration.  Nothing. He was spent, completely dried up.

_Worthless_

He had tried so hard.  He’d made an effort to be better, but it never seemed to work.  He tried to be more inclusive and cooperative, but it only seemed to drive the others away.  They’d all left each other alone. Perhaps for too long. He couldn’t quite remember the last time they’d had dinner together, watched a movie together, even just argued over something, together.

They stopped being together.  And it was his fault.

He couldn’t keep his ego in check.

He didn’t acknowledge their contributions enough.

He never thanked them enough for all the help they gave him.

He truly was worthless.

_Worthless_

He kept staring at the paper, hoping he could fall into its blankness and just disappear.  Surely the others would be better off not having to deal with him any longer. They would be so much better at taking care of Thomas without him.

He was, after all, no royal prince, but just a royal pain.

Unwanted.

Unloved.

Unneeded.

_Worthless._

 

***********************

 

Patton sat amongst all the memorabilia he’d collected from Thomas’ life, staring at but not seeing all the memories of happier times.

All those smiles, all those laughs.  All utter nonsense in the end. Because he was only good for a laugh, and nothing else.

_Worthless_

He was supposed to be the father figure figment, the one who kept the others on the right path.  He was Morality. Surely he should have seen how hypocritical he was being, berating the others for being wrapped up in their own things when he himself couldn’t even get out of his own illusions.  The illusions of past times, when things had been happier.

But they weren’t happier.  Beneath all of the fake photo smiles were a thousand bad moments.  Fights, tempers, accidents, forgetfulness, bad choices, bad decisions.  A thousand tiny things, but put them together and you get enough to make a wall, a wall between yourself and the people you love.

_Worthless_

He had tried.  Goodness knows, he had tried.  But it was so much easier to lose himself in the happy denial nostalgia can give you than accept the harsh, bitter reality banging on your door.  Why would anyone subject themselves to such pain when it was so much nicer to live in the past, where you could pretend everything was fine and dandy?  Where you could pretend that the people you loved most hadn’t abandoned you to your obsessions. Where you hadn’t abandoned them because you couldn’t deal with the truth.

He had failed them.

He had failed Thomas.

He had failed himself.

_Worthless_

He looked about himself, at all the piles of ancient memories.  Surely he was better off buried beneath them, lost to the nostalgia.  The others wouldn’t have to deal with his denial, his constant longing, his pain.  They could keep Thomas moving forward.

Whereas all he could do was keep him stuck in the past.

Stuck.

Afraid.

Trapped.

 _Worthless_.

 

***********************

 

Logan sat in his reading chair, staring at the vast bookcases containing all the knowledge he had acquired over the years.

So many facts, so much knowledge and wisdom from the past.  And none of it of any use. After all, no one would willingly listen to a talking encyclopedia.

_Worthless_

He was supposed to be the smart one, the one who understood the consequences of their actions.  But he couldn’t see that all he’d done was drive them away. He had thought that they would come to appreciate his intellect, his vast knowledge of helpful information.  Which he was more than ready to share, even if they didn’t want it. Or need it.

He had built for himself a grand palace of thought and reason, its walls fortified with every piece of knowledge he had accrued.  And it truly was vast. But in the end, it was also empty. Because who would want to live in something as cold and unfeeling as facts.

_Worthless_

He had tried his best to help the others, but his help was never what they wanted.  Facts couldn’t heal a broken heart, or calm an overwhelming fear, or assure a bruised ego.  The fact that they kept ignoring him and belittling his contributions didn’t make things easier,  but he himself could have been a little kinder when discussing their gifts as well. Maybe if he had, then he wouldn’t have found himself here, alone.

Without the others’ warmth and kindness.

Without any assurance that he was helping.

With nothing but cold and unfeeling knowledge.

Which in the end was of no use to anyone.

_Worthless_

Logically, he knew there was no real death in the mindscape.  He couldn’t die, not unless Thomas did. But then he could be reintegrated, pulled back into the fold of Thomas’ subconscious mind, no longer thinking and feeling, but just functioning, like before.   He longed for it, to be put out of this misery. And surely the others would appreciate it as well? No more dealing with his incessant parroting and unending criticism. They were smart, and they could help Thomas think things through and push him to greater heights.

Because all he could do was hinder him.

Unfeeling.

Cold.

No help.

Nothing.

_Worthless._

 

***********************

 

Virgil opened his eyes with a start.  He was lying on the floor of his room, curled up around himself, like he had been for…well, to be honest, he couldn’t remember how long he’d been there.

The shadows that seemed to always hide in the corners of his room had amassed, and were swirling around him like vultures.  And who could blame them? They fed off of fear and anxiety, and Virgil had failed to keep them in check.

_Worthless_

He was supposed to protect Thomas, keep him safe.  And while he hadn’t always done that the right way, he had been trying to do better.  He’d been working with the other sides more, letting them know when he was feeling overwhelmed, and not being so mean as to drive them off.  And he’d thought he was doing better. But that didn’t stop the fear, the worry, the Anxiety from seeping through.

After all, was he really doing what was best?  Was he really helping? Was he really needed? He’d once thought he wasn’t, and when he’d tried to act on that thought, it had nearly messed up Thomas forever.  But he came back and tried to make it work. And yet he was now making it worse. After all, did anyone really like someone who only focused on the bad things that could happen?

_Worthless_

He had tried to leave, and it hadn’t helped.  He’d tried to stay, and look where they were now?  It was obvious, really. He was the problem, a problem that needed to be solved if Thomas was going to have any chance at a good life.  And the others could see that. Why else would they have all left him like this?

Alone in his room.

Abandoned to his fear.

Afraid of everything.

And bringing everyone else down with just his existence.

_Worthless_

He’d tried to duck out once before, but this time he knew how to do it right.  He needed to go to the subconscious. There his mind would be shredded apart, and any trace would be swept away.  His function would be reintegrated into the others and Thomas. And they’d have no memory of the worthless emo nightmare who had brought them nothing but pain.

And he’d be gone.

Lost.

Forgotten.

Unsought.

Unnecessary.

_Worthless._

 

***********************

 

Thomas sat on his sectional, staring ahead, unfocused.

He kept hearing it, over and over and over again.

_Worthless_

And it was right.  He was worthless. Otherwise, would he have fallen so far after climbing so high?

His content had dried up months ago.  No new Sanders Sides videos, no ideas for Cartoon Therapy, no fun things to do with friends.  Not that he had any anymore. They had all left, moved on, forgotten about him. Not a single one had talked to him in weeks.  Not even Joan.

His family was no better.  They were always busy, always having too much fun without him.  They didn’t need him bothering them. After all, that’s all he ever did.  Bother them with his unwanted presence. Honestly, who needed that?

The famders had all but disappeared as well.  His last short had been a final lame attempt at something funny, but it hadn’t gone over well.  There was once a time when he would get a couple new followers a week. Now, he was lucky if he didn’t lose more than a couple dozen in a single day.  Only the most stalwart were hanging on, but even they seemed restless, just about ready to call it and move on. Even Crofters had pulled out of their deal.

_Worthless_

He had nothing, no friends, no family, no fans, no support.  Any talent he might have possessed had run dry. All of his education had been flushed down the drain years ago to pursue this “passion project” of his.  And look where it had gotten him: all alone in an apartment he was about to lose.

Was there really any point in trying to go on?  What reason did he have for doing so? Everyone was saying that he was worthless, even the voices in his head.  They couldn’t all be wrong, could they?

_Worthless_

His eyes shifted down to the object on the table in front of him.  A silver gleam from the window reflected off the barrel, looking so inviting, so comforting.

 _Come on, you know you want to_ , it seemed to whisper.   _One little click, and all the pain and sorrow will be over_.

Some small, quiet part of him was still trying to protest.   _Think of what you have to live for_ , it pleaded.  But what did he have?  Nothing, no one. What was the point?  Why put it off any longer? Why not just get it over with and end everyone else’s suffering?

He reached for it with grim resolution, wrapping his finger around the trigger.  After all, he might as well do it now and stop making everyone wait for him to get it over with.

After all, he was nothing.

No one.

Insignificant.

Useless.

_Worthless._

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to [prplzorua](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prplzorua/pseuds/Prplzorua) for reading this over for me. Thanks, Z.


End file.
